the god of the living
says you are made of stardust, therefore
dig your nails into your life; cling to it
at all costs, no matter how much blood you draw,
because once lost it is gone forever—
or else he says don’t even think about death,
guzzle yourself giddy, sing yourself sick
because that’s the only way to wage war 
on this foe even I cannot fight.
he says, this is all there is
and he dances in despair
and he is nothing like
the living God

the living god
says there is a sacred circle of life, therefore
do not fear death; welcome it as a friend 
because it is warm as a kiss that suffocates,
because death only comes from life 
(and life only leads to death)—
or else he says death is rest and peace, 
so sweet, so soft, like worm-turned dirt, 
the panacea to all these mortal miseries. 
he says, this is how it should be
and he bows in resignation
and he is nothing like
the God of the living

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